Insert Witty Title Here
by eleveneleven11
Summary: A series of one-shots in which all characters conform to either book, movie, or fanfiction stereotypes. This may include angsty 5th year Harry, the loving Marauders male friendship, Scorpius/Rose stemmed from the thorns of desire...you get the idea. R&R!
1. The Common Room Conondrum

**A/N: Welcome. As you saw in the summary, this is going to be a series of one-shots in which the characters of Harry Potter behave in absurdly stereotypical ways. This is coming from a humongous fan with the utmost respect for Harry Potter. That's why I enjoy, you know, mocking it just a tiny bit...**

**Stereotypes include movie, book, and fanficition. I'm open to suggestions, please review!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Big surprise.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Summary: 5th year Harry is being ridiculously angsty on a typical evening in Gryffindor tower.<strong>

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><p>As the sun sank lower in the sky outside of Gryffindor tower, the three best friends entered the scarlet common room feeling drained by a day of hoop-jumping and secret meetings. Slowly, they assembled themselves in their usual position, the comfortable armchairs they'd taken a fancy to since first year, and pulled out parchment and quills for a long night of studying. The concept of actually completing homework was a nice but short-lived thought.<p>

"Bloody hell Hermione! How come you're writing so damn small? We've got to do thirteen inches. You'll be scribbling all night," Ron said while simultaneously scratching his nose and eating a chocolate cauldron.

With a sharp gaze, she retorted loftily, "I'm being _thorough_. Now stop bothering me and get to work, I'm not giving you any help."

Harry's grip tightened on his quill. A sweep of dark hair covering his brow, he felt his skin crawl with angst and a cold sweat began to form. "Who cares about the old toad's essay? What does it matter?"

Without looking up from the parchment, Hermione pursed her lips. "Harry we've talked about this. Umbridge may be a hag, but we're fifth years now. OWLs are important for your future." Ron nodded absentmindedly and shoved a pumpkin pasty in his mouth.

"Well maybe for your future, but you've forgotten something. Voldemort's back. He killed Cedric. He's back. What do you think Hermione, are my OWLs gonna come in bloody handy when I'm fighting the greatest dark wizard of all time? That's right. I've seen what's out there, and writing papers isn't gonna make it go away."

"But Harry..."

"He's back."

Pasty in mouth, Ron felt inclined to jump in, "Blimey 'Arry, 'Er-my-nee's only tryin' to 'elp"

He raised his eyebrows and snickered darkly. "Thanks for the insight mate. Real intelligent input." After a pause of uncomfortable silence between the bickering friends, Harry gasped and brought his palm to the pain in his forehead.

"Oh no Harry! Is it your scar again? Any visions? How bad does it hurt?" Hermione called out in a rush, staring at him intently and clutching his wrist.

"Um, yeah. The usual, I see the bloody doors. It's burning a fair bit as well."

"I see. Is it more of a prickle, or perhaps a sharp stab? Ache? Twinge? Give me a one to ten estimate."

"I dunno, it's somewhere on the twinge to stab level. What's that, like a six or seven. Nothing unusual."

"Harry you know what this means."

"Hermione you're forgetting, I'm right thick compared to you, how about you lay it out for me?"

She sighed with contempt. "It means you've got to speak to Dumbledore. This is serious and you can't continue to keep it from him!"

"You don't get it. YOU DON'T GET IT!" Harry spat out at a roaring all-caps volume. "He doesn't want to talk to me, so I won't talk to him. End of story, okay? C'mon. Take me as I am." He pushed an unruly lock of hair out of his eyes, foreshadowing the Harry-James complex we all know and love. His angry stare passed longingly over the crackling fire, disappointingly absent of his godfather's face. Hermione gave him a sad smile and released her grip on his arm, suddenly becoming aware of Ron's death stare. Blushing, she placed her other hand on the edge of Ron's chair, relieving the tension and restoring balance once again.

"Listen mate…" Ron said. "The hell with this essay. If your scar's hurting, you better, um, rest it right? Hit the dormitories?"

"Ron you know he can't-"

"Sounds good."

Ron grinned and got up from the chair. "So Hermione? You'll get the essays done? Don't make 'em too perfect."

"You know very well I can't…I mean…I couldn't possibly…" she sputtered. "Ronald no! We're prefects now! That would be completely inappropriate!"

Subconsciously he touched the shiny gold badge adorned to his robes and gave his best prefectly smile. "C'mon, please? If it weren't for Harry's damn scar we'd have six inches done by now. I want to be, uh, supportive."

"Merlin's beard. You can't seriously expect me to believe that load of bollocks!"

"Okay, how's this, Hermione if you do my essay and Ron's essay, I'll talk to Dumbledore? It's a ruddy win-win, you happy now? Are you right chuffed?"

As the stars emerged twinkling outside the window, Hermione nodded reluctantly, blood boiling on the inside. The boys walked away casually to the dormitory, leaving behind yet another oh-so-typical angst-filled evening.


	2. The Mischievous Marauders

**A/N: If you're interested, in analyzing the personalities of fictional characters, good news! I just created a forum for such discussions. It's entitled "MBTI and Enneagram." Creative, I know. I've yet to figure out how to link it on my profile or in this story, but when I do, it shall be done.**

**Chapter Summary: In which we meet the Marauders, enjoying their 5th year as best mates...to the point of abominable cheesiness. It's a bit Sirius-intensive, but what can I say, I'm a Prongs fan. Enjoy.**

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><p>The four boys sauntering through the corridors were recognizable by all that passed. The leader, a lanky boy with an artfully distressed mop of jet-black hair, had the sort of carefree confidence necessary to manage such a fine institution. His best friend marched beside him in a similar suave manner. The other two had not quite the same poise. One was at risk of running into a wall, due to the impossibly thick piece of literature guarding his vision. The other was neither arrogant Quidditch captain, nor infamous rebel, and certainly not a bookwormish werewolf. He was, for lack of a better term, completely lame.<p>

The lazy Saturday seemed to be moving in slow motion, and James was intent on changing that unfortunate truth.

"What should we do Padfoot? I'd rather watch paint dry than wander around the halls. It's so dull," he said whilst tossing a snitch from hand to hand. He stopped for a moment to ruffle his hair.

Sirius snickered. "Oh I dunno. I suppose we could find dear Snivellus. That never gets old."

"That's the spirit! Only we hexed him a bit an hour ago. How about a pick-up Quidditch game on the outskirts of the forest?"

"Pranking first-years?"

"Mocking Slytherins?"

"Entering Hogsmeade through a secret passage?"

"Use our favorite map to find people behaving questionably, sneak up on them, and scare the living shite out of 'em?" The two boys shared a hearty laugh and slapped each other's backs. Deliberately they ignored Pettigrew, who reacted with an unintelligible squeal of delight, and a small dribble of spittle on the chin.

"Ah, Prongs. Too much, too much. Oy, Moony, stop being a prat and put the book down!" he said, snatching it away from his bemused friend. "What's this? Oh bloody hell, _An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms_? You've got to be kidding me."

"It's a fascinating piece of work really…" Lupin started.

"Please don't. Now if you do care about that load of taradiddle more than your best mates, by all means, crack on." With an uncharacteristically striking smirk, he tossed the volume with ease. Buckling under its weight, Remus scrambled to collect the stack of dusty paper.

"Forgive me Sirius. How could I forget, of course Prongs' lack of an attention span takes high priority over my own silly academic ambitions." He tossed the book back in his knapsack and sighed. "Now. Where were we? Discussing ploys of mischief?"

James flicked his head, giving his fringe a certain level of electricity. "Hey. Wait a second. Moony said I have no attention span!" He threw the snitch angrily.

"R…r…remus!" Wormtail squeaked in horror.

"Oh look! It's….it's…!" James gasped, promptly forgetting that he'd been insulted. He stopped in his tracks. The others as well.

"Snivellus?" replied Sirius hopefully.

"Someplace quiet?" lamented Remus.

Pettigrew simply shrieked "Hrrrgprr!"

Dreamy as a budding spring day, the bespectacled youth muttered, "Evans…" Sure enough, the gorgeous redhead was fast approaching from across the corridor. Padfoot and Moony sighed in contempt. "Bloody hell, I mean she's just so…so…she's Lily Evans. Y'know what I mean?" A warm, stupid grin took over his countenance. Quickly, he mussed his fringe to a proper state of disorder.

"Sure thing Prongs," Sirius said, rolling his eyes.

"Merlin's pants she's right there. Oh! Oy! Evans, wotcher!"

The stunning young witch slowed her pace ever so slightly, turned away from her gaggle of female friends, and turned to face James with a cold stare. "Drop dead."

"Good to see you too, Evans!" he called after her. "Care to get a butterbeer sometime?" Much to his dismay, she did not flinch. "Wait! We could grab a tea instead! C'mon Evans, you know you want me!" From far down the corridor, her shudder was just barely noticeable.

"Ah, James," Lupin said consolingly. "I know you like the girl, but I'm beginning to doubt she returns the feeling. She's just, how to put it…"

"Too good for you," Sirius retorted with a chuckle.

"P…p…padfoot!" Peter called out aghast, reminding the other chaps of his presence.

"Oh don't wet yourself Wormtail, I was just having a bit of fun. We all know Evans is no match for James; she's smart and prissy. Cares about rules and 'doing the right thing.' Pals around with Snivellus from time to time. Kill me now."

James glanced at his friends with the level of arrogance only found in rich, popular, white, athletic fifteen-year-old boys. "Padfoot, Moony, Wormtail, you just wait. By seventh year, she'll be _begging_ for me. Bloody _begging_ for me. It's only a matter of time mates…" Relishing the fantasy, he sat down against the wall, loyal friends copying the action as usual.

"Well, while you're busy pining after Lily for the next two years," Sirius said with a sultry smirk at a passing brunette Gryffindor. "I'll be enjoying the _many_ benefits of being young."

Lupin shook his head. "And have you broken that poor girl's heart?"

"Not yet." The grinning boy stood up. "But what's the fun in that? I'll be off then mates."

"Padfoot!" James called out. "You can't just leave, we were about to, um…"

Remus cut in, "Do something supremely stupid and get away with it?" Each of the blokes laughed at Moony's wit, however Peter carried on hooting raucously for perhaps a beat past the point of social propriety.

"Yes, yes of course. Why shag beautiful girls when there's havoc to be wreaked? Where'll we be headed to James?"

Their mighty leader, captain, and king rose from his recumbent position and into a stance of charismatic dominance. "My dear chaps." Hair ruffle. Snitch toss. "We shall go to the kitchens and snag a few butterbeers. Then we'll discuss the end of year prank Padfoot and I have been dreaming up. It's going to be brilliant I tell you, just bloody wicked!"

The boys followed Prongs hither to the kitchens. Affectionately enjoying their close bond, the four joined hands as they walked. The pungent aura of male friendship radiated from the group. Loyalty, truth, and honor rested comfortably in the entwined fingers of the mischief-makers.

Give it five years, add Voldemort into the equation, and a bundle of betrayal and lies might spice things up a little. But lets not get ahead of ourselves.

For now at least, the teenagers had each other, a kingdom to rule, and onlookers to impress. And so for the rest of their Hogwarts days, they lived happily ever after.


End file.
